


For the Hope of it All

by Radiumchill



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Making Out, What-If, a little angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:00:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28878369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radiumchill/pseuds/Radiumchill
Summary: Just something that popped into my head after watching the episode in season 4 where Lucifer is almost impaled with an axe. I think this show needs more kissing and this works without ruining the rest of the season.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 14
Kudos: 91





	For the Hope of it All

The sky is dark and moonless as they walk silently to his car, parked far and under a tree so as not to be spotted. He is unsure of where he stands with her and it’s making him fidgety. Her outburst earlier at his place took him by surprise, yet, if he is truly being honest with himself, it really shouldn’t have. He should have prepared himself better for this. 

He has been feeling so raw and open, waiting for her approval. And even when she gave it, he knew she was holding back, not quite all there. 

She walks close to him. Her fingertips barely brushing his pants as they swing gently by her sides. He almost grabs her hand but instead slides his hands into the pockets of his suit jacket and then quickly back into his pants pockets after feeling ridiculous. 

He studies her profile for a moment before looking away. She’s definitely holding back and if they could just get through this last hurdle everything would be fine. Better than fine. But, he has no idea what to do to get through this. He is jittery and nervous and just wants her hands on him again, but no axe involved this time, thank you. Thinking about her hands on his chest again right now is almost too much. He feels a little crazy being so caught up in these small touches.

When they reach the car, she clears her throat nervously. “You parked far.”

“Yes, well, the point was not to be seen.”

“Yeah, thank you for that. I’m glad you were here.”

He smiles slightly at the praise.

She opens her mouth but pauses in thought. “You are my partner. We are partners, aren’t we?” She says softly.

“Of course. Of course we are,” he says solemnly.

She reaches her hand up to him. It hovers for a second between them, and he notes the tremble in it. “I’m so sorry about this,” she says as she presses her hand gently to the still open cut on his chest. He feels his heart begin the pound in expectation. “I don’t know where my head is right now.” she whispers, furrowing her brow as she presses a little harder spreading her fingers across his chest. He winces at the sting of the cut or possibly at her admission that she is still confused.

She quickly removes her hand mouthing sorry and starts kicking at pine needles covering the ground.

He finds himself rooted in his spot. Standing and waiting for her next action. Unable to break the fragile tension around them.

She looks up at him, her eyes searching for a moment. She pauses and tilts her head, listening. “I think everyone has gone. It’s pretty quiet. I better head to my car. I just parked in the parking lot back there.” 

His heart drops, though he didn’t know what he was expecting. “I can drive you to your car. It’s dark.”

She shakes her head no. “I can handle some dark woods.”

He grabs her fingertips briefly. “Let me.”

She nods but doesn’t move. She just stands straighter, sliding her hands into the pockets of her pants. He keeps his position, rooted and watching her. It’s as if they are playing a game of chicken. Whoever moves first loses. She gives him a slight shrug. It looks like they’re going to live here now.

A long minute of staring into the forest and watching Chloe move pine needles with the toe of her loafer, he lets out a sigh and gives in first by taking a step forward and pulling her into him. He rests his chin lightly on top of her head, murmuring her name. For all the time they’ve spent together, he’s never been the one to touch her first. He wonders if she can hear his heart hammering in his chest. It’s pounding so hard, he can feel it in his throat. After a moment, she steps slightly back, enough to release his arms but still occupy his personal space. He’s about speak when he feels her lips brush where is his chest is exposed. Stunned, he reaches to grab her face gently, tilting her chin up to look her in the eyes, trying to gauge where her exactly head is at. He feels the dampness on her cheeks before he sees her tears.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” He asks, alarmed. Whatever it is, he can fix it, he tells himself. He moves his hand to her hair, his thumb stroking the tears away from her cheek. 

She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut. She opens them smiling. “I’m fine. Just being silly.” And then she’s pushing herself onto the balls of her feet, pulling his face to hers.

He doesn’t respond at first, unsure what to do between the crying and the kissing. But she is insistent and soft and his desire for her overwhelms him until he decides to follow her lead. He kisses her back, placing his hands on her hips and pulling her body to his so there is no space between them. She’s tracing his lips with her tongue and he lets out a soft, involuntary sound, but he tries to keep the kiss soft and sweet. Somewhere they’ve been before.

If she could just accept him. Love him. Everything would be all right. A small part of him knows this isn’t what was happening. She clearly is having issues with who he is, but it is amazingly easy to let himself believe what he wants with their breaths intermingling, her hands in his hair, her lips on his. 

As she grows more insistent, he tries his best to slow her down and keep kissing her softly. He feels like he’s treading broken ice, straining to make the right step and not break this fragile thing between them. He doesn’t want her to regret this with him. He doesn’t think he could survive that. 

She makes a short sound of frustration and moves to kiss his neck, sucking gently. He feels himself getting hard, wanting more, but he just can’t. He wills his heart to slow and moves his hands lightly down her back, pressing his fingertips into the bones of her spine. For small second he thinks about the similarities of their anatomy. How his father created humans after he created him and his siblings. Were they meant to be an improvement? Chloe certainly was. She moves her mouth down his neck to his chest and she licks where she had pressed the axe. He stills in shock. “Please Lucifer,” she whispers throatily. “I want this. Be here with me.”

He puts his hands around her face and searches for an answer. “Right,” he nods and pulls her toward him, folding his body around her, embracing her tightly for a minute before moving to capture her mouth with his, licking her mouth open, putting his hand in her hair to intensify the kiss, allowing his feelings towards her to overwhelm him. He will take whatever she allows him to have. He moves one hand down her body and rests his palm at the side of her breast. His fingers splay her rib cage, just resting under the swell of her. She whimpers and pushes the top half of her body closer into his hand. Knowing that she wants him, makes him ache with need. He can feel her heart thrumming, the rapid beat matching his own. The word please hanging in the air between the both them. He deepens the kiss, barely breathing. Their kisses becoming messy and frantic: lips and tongue and teeth. He shuts off his brain and just becomes a body, panting and wanting. He lifts her and pulls her legs to wrap around him, pinning her partly to his car. He presses open mouthed kisses to her throat, moving her sweater to lick at her collarbone and nip at her shoulder. She pulls his mouth to hers again and they kiss and kiss and kiss until his lips feel bruised. He adjusts her body against his and the car, positioning her hips directly against his. Has he ever been this hard in his life? He grinds his body against her open legs, holding her hips in place. She lets out a whine and breaks away from his mouth, ducking her head in the crook of his neck.

He stills. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she chokes out. “I’m fine. Sorry. I just need a minute.” She leaves her head on his shoulder and takes a long, shaky inhale.

He smiles uncertainly. “I know. That was a bit intense.”

She lets out a bark of a laugh. “Yeah, the making out with Satan part?” He can feel her form the words on his neck, her chin moving against his shoulder.

He gives a humorless laugh and slowly puts her back on the ground. “Maybe we should ease up a bit,” he says, looking past her, his hurt and anger bobbing beneath the surface.

“Maybe,” she agrees. She puts an arm across her body, holding her other elbow awkwardly. It occurs to him that it might be cold out here.

“How long have we been out here?”

She shrugs in response and blushes. “How about that ride?”

He reaches over her to open the passenger door and waits for her to get in before closing it. As he crosses in front of the car he can feel her eyes in him. If only he knew what she was thinking. Maybe he doesn’t want to know, he thinks darkly. 

He feels a pang, remembering her outburst earlier that night. He wishes he could stop going over it in his mind. A part of him is angry that she could accuse him of manipulating her, of being capable of toying with her for his own malicious reasons. How did this one part of him erase everything they had been through? He shouldn’t dwell on it. He just has to prove to her that he is the same person. Better even. He is good just like she said he was. Safe. He could be safe for someone.

He gets in the driver’s seat, wanting to lighten the mood with a joke, a comment, a suggestion, but is coming up empty. Instead they drive the minute to her car in silence. The car is slightly shaking from the nervous up and down movement of her knee. He reaches out his hand to still it, trying to reassure her. He covers the whole of her knee with his is palm. He is safe.

He pulls up next to her car and waits, looking at her profile as she stares out the windshield before turning to look at him.

He hasn’t let go of her knee and she puts her own hand over his before turning it over and clasping it, sliding her fingers through his. She hesitates before biting out, “Listen, I need to be honest with you.”

He winces. “Don’t. Not yet.” He looks at her a little desperately. 

She looks him in the eyes. Her brow crinkles as if deciding something. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, and then she leans forward and kisses him hard and urgent. He matches her need, holding her by her upper arms, trying to communicate what he can’t say aloud. 

She bites his bottom lip and then soothes it by licking lightly. When they kiss again, he tastes the slight metallic taste of blood. She pulls back, “I’ve hurt you again.” She gingerly presses two fingers to his bottom lip, frowning.

“I don’t mind.” He captures her fingers with his hand and puts them in his mouth, gently sucking. He likes how she closes her eyes and tilts her head back, exposing her neck. He bites the tips gently. 

She opens her eyes and smiles at him. Her smile overwhelms him for a moment before they’re kissing again and she’s climbing over to his lap, straddling his hips. Her breasts are just below his chin now and he breaks from her mouth to suck the hollow of her throat. He can’t believe that this is happening. Here of all places, but he won’t break whatever spell is happening in the process. 

She breaks away panting, her head bent to unbutton the rest of his shirt.

“I never thought I would be making out with you in a car. Though maybe I should have given how much time we spend in them,” he says his voice low, almost whispering by the end. He hears her light laugh and she makes it half way down his shirt before getting distracted and begins moving her hands over his chest and stomach. Her hands on his bare skin is almost too much to take. He grabs both of her wrists in one hand and kisses her lightly on the lips before pushing his own hands up her sweater, cupping her over her bra. She whimpers softly, putting her arms around his neck and pushing her to chest into his palms. She bends her head to press her lips softly on his neck. He can feel her light breath on his ear as she pauses. The sudden feeling of intimacy overwhelms him and he stills his movements for a moment before dragging his hands down and holding her ribcage. As his thumbs passes over each rib, he silently counts, thinking of the fragile bones inside. 

She looks him the eye, “Hey,” she says softly, “hey, Lucifer. Stay with me.” She slips back to nip his neck and then immediately soothes the sting with her tongue. Her hands travels down to palm his erection. It’s enough to bring him out of his daze. He groans and slides his hands under her bottom, gripping the underside of her thighs to bring her center close to him again. She gasps, pushing down on him, fumbling again to finish unbuttoning his shirt. He wraps his arms around the small of her back pushing his face into her breasts still covered by her sweater. He’s going to live here and never leave.

“I need,” she starts, unable to finish. She kisses him roughly and before reaching to take off her sweater. 

He swallows. To be finally so close and now unsure like he never has been before. Afraid to make the wrong move and scare her off. To do it all wrong. “Lucifer,” says her voice rough almost pleading. She picks up his hands and places them on the warmth of her breasts. He finds his footing again and slides his hands into the cups of her bra brushing his thumbs against her nipples. She groans lightly and her head falls to his shoulder as if it was suddenly too heavy to hold up. She grinds against him until his own hips move with hers. 

Her desire helps him find his lost confidence. “Let’s go back to my place,” he says, his voice strained and needy. “I want more than this.”

She kisses him roughly. “Just a few more minutes. Please. I don’t want to stop yet,” she pants while his tongue finds her nipple. She buries her hands in his hair, tugging. The slight pain with pleasure pushing him further. 

He flips their bodies, so she is beneath him now, carefully keeping his hand on the middle of her back, her shoulders against the driver side window. He slowly runs his hand down the side of her thigh until he is gripping her calf and then pulls her bent leg towards his shoulder, driving them as close as they can get. She whines and grips his hip. He squeezes his eyes shut, considering if his willing to go further in this tiny car. She reaches her hand between them to palm him, her hand drifting down the length of him and thumbing the tip. “Chloe,” he bites out. Every time he pauses, she pushes him along until he feels woozy. She moves her hands frantically over his hair, his chest, his stomach, his backside all the while kissing and kissing and kissing. This can’t go on like this much longer. He feels both wrung out and full of so much want he can’t seem to catch his breath. Why didn’t anyone ever tell him that it could be like this? It has never felt like this.

His head fuzzy, he begins to undo her belt currently digging into his bare stomach while trying to not take his lips off her skin. This is happening here. He is powerless to stop it. Impatiently, he fumbles with the buckle before briefly giving up and settling for pressing the warmth of his palm between her legs. She shudders, biting out a part of his name before reaching down to undo her belt herself. Unclasping and dragging it through the loops she shoves it on the floor, beginning to clumsily unbutton her pants when there is a loud, abrupt honk. It takes him a second before he realizes his elbow is pressing on the horn before he jerks it away. She startles, sitting up and pushing him away, alert and searching until she realizes what happened.

She scrambles into the passenger seat, reaching over him for her belt and then fumbling for her sweater

“Detective?” he questions softly.

She pulls on her sweater and stares out the window. The fragile bubble has burst. The spell is over. She finally answers softly, “That scared me. I just need a minute.” She glances at him and runs her hands down her thighs, smoothing down her pants. “How old are we?” she laughs unsteadily. Her brow furrows as she glances over at him. “Don’t answer that. I’m not sure I can handle it right now.”

“Do you want to go—” he starts.

She interrupts. “It’s too much. It’s too much right now,” she says softly, looking out the window again. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never meant…I don’t know what I was thinking. I was caught up in...” she trails off.

He feels a surge of anger. “What’s too much? Sex? Being with me? Or just the whole of who I am?”

“Everything. Okay? All of it. I just need to figure some things out. I just need time. It’s a lot,” she pleads. 

He feels clownish sitting there, his shirt unbuttoned while she dismisses him with her lips swollen from his desperate kisses. He begins to button up and then starts the car. 

She opens her door, the sound punctuating her rejection. He looks out over the steering wheel. He can feel her eyes on him. Full of pity or terror, he doesn’t want to know.

She gets out of the car and leans into the open door. “But I’ll see you tomorrow? There really is something I need to tell you.”

He nods, “Tomorrow then.”


End file.
